


Everybody Will Remember His Name

by yulin



Series: Sekhmet [3]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: (Love at?) first sight, Day-1, M/M, Teenagers, cressiweek2017, first
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 20:26:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12240051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yulin/pseuds/yulin
Summary: Leo wasn’t sure if it was the sweet or what he was seeing, but his mouth was watering.





	Everybody Will Remember His Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MessiFangirl (hpdm4ever)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/gifts).



Leo entered the room. It was wide, with a white cream sofa and armchairs, a cream carpet floor and dark wood furniture. The dim light of the dying day was softened by the linen curtains that covered large windows. Leo would have liked it, if only it wasn’t crowded with so many people.

Romero’s parents were out for the weekend and he had decided to invite “a few friends”-in his words- to watch the main match of Sekhmet that day.

Gago and Di Maria were already there, sitting on the coach, while Banega was on an armchair. Ustari and Zabaleta preferred to sit on the carpet and being closer to the tea table where the food was and were already attacking a bowl of crisps, while Lavezzi was checking that the holo-video was working fine.

“Does anyone want to use mind-devices?” he asked.

“Nah, where would be the fun, then?” Gago replied, and the other silently nodded.

Well, that was true. While wearing those devices you feel as if you’re fighting in the same arena as one of the warriors, and that was not too bad-- if you were alone in a room with only the company of a holo-screen. But if you planned a night with your friends, you don’t really want to have the vitality of a coma patient with the risk of saliva dropping from the side of your month. 

Although, right now Leo was not sure that that was the less desirable option, between the two. If only that wouldn’t have put him in an even worse situation: his companions would have watched him and his reactions to the battle while he couldn’t watch them back. He would have been even more put on the spot, something that he really wasn’t looking for.

“We could end up killing each other,” Ustari cautiously added. Well, that was true, as well. Sometimes people that wore mind-devices during fighting events tended to over-react. Accidents can happen. But clearly that was not really a concern of the teens in the room, and he was soon interrupted by a rain of chips. 

“Yeah, I could kill you with the darts I have in my hands now,” Banega said, throwing the last crisp, before receiving a pillow in his face.

“Just fuck off, right?” Ustari commented.

“Careful,” Romero shouted from the kitchen, “we don’t want to make a mess even before the match starts.”

In all that, Leo was still at the threshold of the door, undecided on what to do with himself. He was a bit tired and in pain from training, so he didn’t really want to sit on the floor. There was a free armchair, but he would feel awkward to claim it for himself, for a few reasons. He would be a little separated from the others and that could have put him in a spotlight. He would have liked a more unobserved place. There was some space on the sofa, but not too much, and maybe Romero wanted for himself. At the end of the day, it was his house and he had been enough kind to invite all of them together, so he should have the right to choose his preferred spot. Leo was considering that, after all, and he was thinking he should go for the floor when someone grabbed his elbow and dragged him.

“I am so happy that you came!” Leo didn’t need to turn and see to recognise who had taken him under his protective wing. The joyful tone of the voice, the typical smell of the citreous cologne that he had recently started to proudly use –even if in reality the facial hairs were only barely visible- the naturally high temperature of his body that always made Leo want to curl up on him and sleep: everything made Kun so unmistakable to Leo.

Leo simply nodded, but he wasn’t even sure that Kun noticed that, while he was already dragging him to the floor against his own chest.

Leo released a sigh making himself comfortable against Kun’s chest. As always, he’d saved his life, dug him out of his little panicky crisis: having his friend behind him had immediately made him feel more relaxed. 

Eventually Lavezzi landed on an armchair with a bowl of chips in his arms, and a wide grin on his face to declare his satisfaction for the settings that he manage to make on the screen.

The battle of that night was involving a slythersaurus and a terrestrial. The slythersaurus was cold blooded animal from a planet that had four suns. It was pretty similar to a terrestrial snake, apart from the fact that he was 3 meters high with a diameter of one meter, and had the capacity of standing for half of its high. And the fact that it was pale purple. The terrestrial –Cristiano Ronaldo was his name- was a new fighter, but according to the commentator a very promising one. “He is naturally right handed, but on occasion he is equally deadly with his left. He has an incredibly speed considering his build and his strength. I am telling you, everybody will remember his name, soon.”

“Of course, they say that. He’s a spoiled child of Mother Earth, isn’t he,” Banega spat, and that brought a moment of awkward silence. Banega’s elder brother had been recently arrested for his rebellious activity against the terrestrial government. But the boys didn’t really want to talk about politics. Not that night, when they simply wanted to have their little, well deserved time off.

“They can say what they want, but they will never have a God by their side. Only in Argentina a God of fights can be born,” Di Maria eventually said quietly and all nodded. Some of them were glaring at Leo, and he cocooned himself more into Kun’s hug. 

“Let them say what they want, but I am curious to see this Ronaldo. If he is so good then he could be so unlucky that he has to face me soon,” Kun grinned.

“Yeah, let’s see him. We may fight him soon, it’s good to pay attention,” Ustari said, a serious expression on his face. And that was rewarded with another pillow. 

“Boring!” Gago accused, and everybody was grinning at Ustari’s offended face.

Leo let a relieved sigh, having the attention of the others switched away from him, and silently thanked Kun, while taking a candy from the bowl on the tea-table in front of him.

And then Leo saw him. 

He was walking into the arena proudly, looking up at the public as though he had already gained his victory. His muscles were darting through the tight, dark red battle uniform, that enhanced his dark, tanned skin. But still, what captured Leo was his face. He had never seen a fighter like that. With such beautiful, classical features, that reminded Leo of the perfection of some old paintings that he had seen at art lessons. He was… like the entire package of perfection, with a well-defined jawbone, high cheekbones, big eyes with golden and green flakes that made them brighter in contrast with his dark colours. The little freckles over the small thin nose limited the austerity of the expression, as if to remind them that he was still an 18 year old boy.

Leo wasn’t sure if it was the sweet or what he was seeing, but his mouth was watering.

“What a jerk!” Gaga cried out.

“Told you,” Banega grumbled.

“Is he plugging his eyebrows or what?” Angel asked with a quiet voice

“I am afraid he might actually paint them.” And while he was saying that, Lavezzi put down his bowl, as if he was feeling sick.

“And I honestly have never seen so much gel in someone’s hair.” Zabaleta commented as well. “And what the hell is that mangy tail?”

“I don’t know, it seems like he thinks he’s walking in a fashion week on stage or something. I can’t believe that they think he’s going to be the new champion or whatever,” Ustari said with a furrow on his forehead.

Leo whined, sliding a bit down on Kun’s chest, receving a questioning sound from his friend.

But then everybody was soon distracted by what was happening on the screen: the fight had started, and the comments on Ronaldo’s looks immediately stopped.

Because it was clear from the first moves that no, Ronaldo was not a fashion model, indeed.  
At the beginning he was just studying the opponent, let him taking the initiative, and still he was so fast, easily avoiding all the attacks.

And Leo couldn’t help but notice his muscles bulging as he dodged. On his back they looked like piano keys, alternatively rippling and falling following the harmony of his movements.

“Well, at least he knows how to move,” Kun commented, and everybody nodded, almost lost in their thoughts, as they were all captured by the images on the screen.

Leo, for some reason he couldn’t explain, felt all of a sudden tremendously embarrassed at Kun’s comment. He was just thankful for the fact that nobody was really caring about him at that moment. Not even Kun. 

The fight enthralled them all, and Leo couldn’t blame them.

If Cristiano wanted to test the opponent, he didn’t need to do any of the tests it was trying on himself. When he decided to attack, it was just with one rapid, deadly blow of his sword, and the head of the beast was cut clean off.

The crowd on the screen exploded with exclamations and cheers, whereas the room of the young Argentinians watching the fight felt silent.

“Well, that was quick,” eventually Lavezzi said.

“Let’s not lie to ourselves: that was good,” Ustari said, and he was right.

Even his own emotions were betraying him, Leo couldn’t help but admire what he had just seen. Ronaldo’s proud attitude reminded him a little bit of Mathias, back in time, when he was fighting. Probably the comparison was helped by the fact that they were using the same weapon: an energy-sword. But the similarity ended there, because Mat was definitely too much of a tease, and always enjoying himself in his superiority over his adversaries: he liked to play with them like a cat would a mouse. Sometimes with disastrous results. 

The premature end of his career was there to prove that.

Ronaldo, instead, was so efficient. You couldn’t give him one opening to strike, because he would transform it into a deadly victory without excitations. In that, he demonstrated maturity really rare, considering his young age.

But on the other hand, it was clear that Ronaldo, as well, liked to enjoy himself: he just waited to win his battle, and then he was encouraging the public with his screams, drinking in all the cheers that he was receiving.

“Yeah. But he is still a jerk,” Gago commented, unimpressed. “And I still think that our Leo is better.”

And that evoked the approval of the others, who felt more relaxed in admitting Leo’s greatness than in recognising Ronaldo’s skills.

Leo, in turn, wasn’t really paying attention, still captured by the images on the screen. Because now Ronaldo was going to the bleachers, heading to a tall, blond guy with baby blue eyes and a big, insolent smile. The kind of smile of someone who is ready to enjoy what he likes without giving a shit about what the world could think about that. A smile that was reflected on Ronaldo face. 

And Leo couldn’t believe his eyes when Ronaldo framed the face of the guy and kissed him fiercely on the mouth.

The commentator was saying something about the fact that that other guy was a young, promising terrestrial fighter, as well, but Leo couldn’t hear it very well, because his friends all blew up with sickened expressions. In reality, Leo could hardly hear them either, as they were drowned out by the sound of his heart, the deafening sound of the blood rushing though his body and pounding in his head.

“I need the bathroom,” he mumbled, and he wasn’t even sure that anyone had heard him. He rose from his position and was already heading to the room’s door, feeling intoxicated by the others’ comments, and, to be honest, by his own feelings.

“Wait, I am coming with you,” Kun followed, already half standing with a hand on his knee. 

“Always to the bathroom in pairs, like proper ladies?” Lavezzi asked with a smirk.

“More like I need some help to support my package,” Kun grinned.

Leo could hear the sarcastic laughs and the cries only far away, as he had ignored everyone and already headed to the corridor.

The steps behind him sounded muffled on the carpet. Leo knew who he was, even before turning and seeing him under the dim light.

“I am sorry if I convinced you to come. You weren’t comfortable the entire night. There are too many people here, aren’t there?”

Leo shrugged. He couldn’t explain to Kun what was going on. Primarily, because he couldn’t explain it even to himself. But of one thing he was sure: he didn’t want Kun to feel guilty for his mess.

“It’s not that,” he assured.

Kun scratched the base of his nose, and his confusion was evident on his face. “Was it because of that Ronaldo?” he attempted.

Leo hated himself. Because he knew that he was showing his emotions, unwillingly. He didn’t need to say anything, but he could feel the blood pinking his cheeks, and he caught himself pulling his hair behind his ears.

But Kun smiled his cutest, brightest smile, as he grabbed Leo’s shoulders. “Leo! Ok, I concede he’s good. But you don’t need to worry! I swear you are as good as him. And you are not even on Sehkmet yet! You can only improve.” 

The confusion was evident in his frown. He guessed that Kun believed he was scared –or so he thought- and this was a newness: Leo had never shown concern for a new challenge, even less for a possible opponents. It was the opposite, he usually showed indifference for the person/animal/whatever he was facing in a fight, and stayed entirely focused on himself.

But Leo didn’t have a better excuse to offer him. He simply lowered his eyes, unable to articulate a coherent word of what his real feelings were, and of course Kun thought it was an admission of fear. He hugged him, rambling consolatory words. Except, they sounded only slightly less credible as a chuckle revealed Kun’s scepticism that Leo needed be worried about anyone.

Leo closed his eyes. As it always happened, he was immediately lost in Kun’s embrace: in his smell, in his warmth, in the strength of the muscles that were surrounding his body. A little whine escaped Leo’s lips, increasing both the strength in Kun’s hug, and his giggle.

At that point Leo didn’t know if he wasn’t clarifying Kun’s misunderstanding because he couldn’t tell him the truth, or because he was enjoying his moment with him a little too much.

Ronaldo had the courage, or the opportunity –both, probably- to do what he wanted, in front of the entire Universe watching at him. Leo knew he could never have that. Lacing his arms around Kun’s back, he was feeling a little guilty, enjoying the little happiness that he could steal.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much Messifangirl for all the help, editing and wiping away my tears when I am complaining about writing (always, that is). All the Kunessi moment are deidcated to you <3.


End file.
